


victorem

by gryffindormischief



Series: Harry Potter AUs! [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Alternate Universe - Sports, European Figure Skating Championships, F/M, Ice Skating, Olympics, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 10:39:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: When God closes a door, sometimes you have to jump out a window.





	victorem

**Author's Note:**

> My first goal for this fic was to get it out before the Olympics ended, and that quickly became a farcical notion. So I tried for James' birthday which also failed. But I did it, and it's a ball of fluff and I made an attempt at accuracy but who knows. Thank you @petalstofish for your very special contributions <3 and @scaredofrobots for reading this and making me feel so good <3 and also @a-collection-of-nonsense for convincing me to do this in the first place. Also @anilee thank you for letting me bug you all the time and @women-inthe-sequelthank you for making sure at least some of this was sort of accurate. I really hope after all this time and build up that this is enjoyable for everyone :)

It’s sort of a miracle, that a skinny-legged, middle-class red head from Cokeworth got matched up with a snobby boarding school educated boy from Islington three years ago.  At least to everyone involved close enough. Between the somewhat bizarre series of events that lead to Lily being able to train in figure skating – to eventually getting proficient enough to compete on the _world stage_ , she’s really begun to recognize the oddness of her life.  Add all that to the fact that they were so perfectly matched that Sirius’ family dropped their objections about her class and heritage the first time they competed and she almost begins to believe in kismet.

All that aside, if _one more_ interview progresses from compliments on their routine to wriggled eyebrows and not so subtle hints at something _more_ between the pair, Lily’s going to pop a blood vessel.  Which would really put her training regimen off kilter, so she takes a steadying breath and renews the practiced grin on her face as Sirius manages to brush the comment aside and turn the conversation back to their performance this season.

And really, the most frustrating thing is they’ve had a _great_ one, culminating in a gold medal performance that literally happened six hours ago – which can’t possibly be old hat yet.  Though the tightening of James’ jaw as he seethes of camera, waiting for his _own_ post gold medal interview, and the teasing wink Sirius sends his way _does_ manage to return some of the genuineness to her smile.

The usual banter brings the conversation to a close as the duo subtly avoids confirming or denying their future plans before signing off with something encouraging and celebratory before the red on-air lights flick off.

Habitually, Sirius’ hand comes to the small of her back as they step off set toward where James is dejectedly putting up with the dusting of pancake one of the make-up artists is spreading across his skin.  “Y’know, they’ve all seen me sweat before.”

The patting stops and the woman – Janet – rolls her eyes but gives James a motherly pat before making her way toward the host for a thirty-second check up.

Sirius throws his arm around Lily’s shoulders playfully and sighs, “One of these days we’re going to have to come clean about our love affair.”

Lily digs her elbow into his side and James shoves Sirius’ face.  Shaking her head, Lily pats James’ arm, “ _Ignore_ him.  It’s the only way to remain sane.”

James rolls his eyes and makes his way toward the plush interview couch, calling back over his shoulder, “We’ve got to do something Lil, or he’ll never learn.”

* * *

Of the three of them, Sirius is probably the best at taking a break from the competition circuit.  Which isn’t to say training has come to a halt, just that they all independently (or as independently as a pair skating team can be) decided that focusing on technique and letting set routines and forgoing prepping for the path to Worlds would be a welcome and useful change.

The assertion that Sirius is coping best is mainly based on nights like this, where he’s honing his skills as an amateur gourmet chef while James and Lily are at the bar top sitting like a couple of gargoyles while they comb through Twitter, ESPN, and a few other less popular websites to keep up on the competition.  Mostly, their plotting involves lots of banter that borders on foreplay while Sirius taunts them from the stove.

Until James lets out a shout and slams the lid on his laptop closed.

“ _What?_ ” Lily grumbles impatiently as she tugs the laptop toward her and tries to guess his password, “Is that little arsehole talking shit about you again?”

“We’ve been through this – no mention of Gilderoy in my presence,” James grunts, “And no.  I just got a front row seat to the you and Sirius porn show.”

Interest piqued, Sirius turns, “We have porn?  Who plays me?”

“ _Written_ porn,” James corrects, rolling his eyes.

Lily types in another unsuccessful password attempt and distractedly interjects, “It’s _smut_.  And keep focused Black, I’m only here for the vittles.”

“That was a bit of a quick correction, Lily,” Sirius probes teasingly as he flicks the stove top off, and James teases, “Is ‘vittles’ a Cokeworth thing?  Who says that?”

“I’m not ashamed to say I read fanfiction, and _no._ Stop shaming my attempts to broaden our collective vocabulary.” Lily replies loftily, while James tugs his computer back in front of his chest, “You’ll get us locked out.”

Clicking for a moment, James pauses, “You sure you want to read this?” he grimaces, “I think I’d like to bleach my eyes out.”

_Lily’s fingertips grip the ice underneath her as Sirius slides his fingers up her flimsy skirt, the cold of the ice on her back and the hotness of his mouth at her –_

Sirius lifts a few dishes from the open air shelves and sets them on a free bit of counter space, “Read it aloud, James.  Do voices.”

“I would rather die.”

Lily’s listening with half an ear as she frowns, lifting one leg absentmindedly, before she nudges James, “Did you read – ” he nods, and she raises a brow, “I’m not _that_ flexible.”

“I think at least five arms would be required for that one,” James postulates as he points blindly.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius carries two plates toward the small dining table and gestures with his elbow, “Are either of you two wankers going to help, or am I the maid service?”

“If we look hard enough, there might be an AU where you are,” Lily drawls, as she clicks back to the previous screen and James grabs Sirius’ plate and three bottles of water.

After a moment, Lily lets the computer sleep and takes her place at the table, making all the necessary ‘oos’ and ‘ahhs’ as she samples her plate, before she narrows her eyes at James, “Why were you even looking for fanfiction about us?”

“It’s very easy to rabbit trail on the internet,” James sniffs, slicing into his chicken with unusual precision.

“He’s just trying to figure out what signs to watch for that’ll clue him in that I’ve officially tossed him over,” Sirius answers with a smirk, cracking his bottle open as he focuses on James, “I’ve told you many a time, you’re still my best girl.”

“Don’t quote Titanic at me.”

“If you sass me I’ll take away your food,” Sirius sniffs, “And before we abandon the subject, I would like to go on record that whatever those people dreamt up, it could not _possibly_ live up to my prowess.  Right, James?”

“Please don’t make it sound like I have first hand knowledge.”

Lily smirks, “You don’t?”

“You’re officially uninvited to dinner,” James asserts, quickly followed by Sirius’ retort, “No you’re not, ignore him.”

“Don’t be jealous, James,” Lily sighs, patting his hand, “I’m sure there’s some smutty fanfiction with you and Gilderoy.”

“Bloody buggering – ”

* * *

 

By the time Lily gets out of her Pilates training session, she’s a wobbly mess of tired muscles and entirely too worn out to even think about cooking something a person training for any sporting competition should be eating.  So the decision to get off the train two stops early and shambles the few blocks toward Sirius and James’ flat with the cozy lobby that has her temporarily considering curling up in one of the posh couches and falling asleep right there, damn whoever has a problem with it.

But the security guard is eyeing her warily and she really _is_ hungry.  So she waits for the mirrored lift doors to slide open and slumps against the side rail as she rises to the seventh floor, only remembering to fumble her keyring from the outside pouch of her sport bag as the light ‘ding’ signals her arrival.

She gains some energy as she makes her way down the corridor buoyed by the plush modern patterned greyscale carpet a pleasant cushion beneath her tired feet and the promise of something delicious prepared by Sirius’ increasingly expert hands.  Sliding the deadbolt open with a decisive _click_ , Lily lets the door swing in and drops her things in a heap, kicking her trainers toward the corner with two dull thuds.  “Oi! Hope you made enough for three, Sirius,” she shakes out her braid and slides her keyring back into her bag, “If not, I’m eating yours.”

Instead of Sirius continuing their usual repartee, her only answer is a low groan from one of the bedrooms.  Wrinkling her nose, Lily pauses to determine exactly what _type_ of groan she just heard when another sounds, more obvious in it’s indication of pain and she’s jogging down the short hallway, sore calves and all.

She peers in the cracked door of Sirius room and finds the bed made, room nearly spotless save the mess of posters that litter the walls.  After double-checking he’s not laying on the floor in a heap, Lily turns and crosses the hall toward James room. Where she finds him, fitfully asleep with a small collection of ice packs draped over his leg and dripping onto the coverlet.  “ _Bloody_ – “

Frowning, Lily fiddles with her overlong sleeves, debating the pros and cons of waking him when he lets out another, louder groan, and then her decision is made.  She crosses the room in three strides and settles next to his hip, shaking his shoulder gently. “James,” then a bit more forcefully, “– _Potter_.”

He jolts awake, nearly smacking her in the face with the backside of his hand, though her carefully honed reflexes allow her to grab his wrist before he can follow through.  “Usually damsels in distress _kiss_ their rescuers,” Lily teases.

“Anytime you like, Evans,” James answers right off, voice gruff with sleep in a way that is decidedly _not_ attractive.

So when her fingers somehow end up brushing his tousled locks back, it’s in a very friendly – clinical even – way.  “Moody cane you again?”

James snorts, “He never canes me, he just – gesticulates when he’s excited and loses track of where people are or aren’t.”

Ignoring him and pulling at the hem of his shorts, Lily sucks in a breath through her teeth, “Fu-“

“M’ok,” James murmurs into the pillow he dragged over his face, “Also, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t drop trou for just anyone.”

“Did you take something?” Lily asks, quirking a brow despite the blush coloring her cheeks.

“Nah,” James hums.

“Budge over, we can watch Netflix,” Lily orders, already worming her way onto the bed.

He’s snuggled against her shoulder when he tilts his head up and smirks, “Gives a whole new meaning to Netflix and chill, eh?”

And he enjoys it a entirely too much when Lily flushes and grumbles, “Keep your battered body in your clothes please.”

“I am a peak specimen, thank you.”

Snatching the remote, Lily conspicuously _avoids_ looking at his chest, taught and firm beneath his too tight t-shirt, “Stuff it,” she tosses her mobile onto his stomach, “And call somewhere that delivers, I’m hungry.”

And she is, so they debate back and forth, with Lily turning down vegan options because ‘I need meat, James’, and James spending most of his remaining energy resisting the urge to take advantage of _that_ opening, until they end up dozing off with an episode of a random comedy playing on the telly anchored to James’ pale blue wall.

It’s fully dark, Netflix questioning whether they’d like to continue in that judgmental way the inanimate program does, when the hallway light flicks on and sends a triangle of golden light across their faces.  And James’ arm tightens around Lily’s middle while Sirius winks. Both freeze ever so slightly, assuming the teasing glance is for them and neither moving enough to see the flush across the other’s cheeks.

* * *

There’s something electric about the feel of an arena in the moments before a competition begins, a thrum that courses through the sometimes-sparse crowd as they await the arrival of their modern-day gladiators.  That thrum, a shiver down the spine, a tooth chattering eagerness, can be heady to competitors, even dangerous if not harnessed and _used_.  Sirius has always had the ability to remain cool and calm, almost blasé even when the Queen is rumored to be in attendance, and Lily _does_ envy his control at times.  But she wouldn’t trade the rush, the tickling sensation of it all for anything.  And somehow, her body over the years hasn’t grown used to it, hasn’t even learned the difference between competing and spectating.

Today, more so than usual, there’s a palpable spike in her eagerness as her piercing green eyes follow a messy-haired figure around the ice as he warms his muscles and gets a feel for the rink.

It’s early yet in the season, and with James delaying his reentry into the competition to allow for some focused training, Lily’ hasn’t had opportunity to see either of his programs until today.

Sirius’ only hints being that “James has an unholy obsession with his music” and that said music is “mind-numbing.”

So when James takes the ice, body hugging costume licking over his toned form, Lily is entirely unprepared – which is even truer when James arches his back and runs his hands across his chest in time with the opening strains.

He skims over the ice, lithe and graceful as usual, but with an added maturity – because that’s what Lily can term it while remaining sane – that has her short of breath and Sirius sending her knowing sidelong glances.

Undeterred, Lily straightens in her seat and studiously ignores Sirius, wincing as James triples his first quad.  But he continues, professional as ever, and doesn’t miss a beat; slicing around the curve of the rink while his hair ruffles.

Lily sighs, “He’s just got that extra _something,_ you know?  It just pulls you in.”

“Not as much as it pulls _you_ ,” Sirius drawls, sipping at his tea.

“Stuff it,” Lily grumbles, slapping him with one discarded glove.

Sirius nudges her, “I bet hearing how much you _love_ his artistry would give James that extra punch of confidence.”

“Repeat anything I’ve said and I’ll skin you alive.”

Snorting, Sirius adjusts in his seat and leans closer, “I’m a glass one non-tradable good _so_ unless you’re planning to make me into a skin suit for _yourself_ –”

Without a pause, Lily growls, “You’re the tauntaun, I’m Luke Skywalker.”

“Such sweet nothings, Evans.  My heart’s a-flutter.”

Lily swipes his drink and ignores his murmured, ‘and you wonder why people think we’re together,’ as James completes a quad, landing solidly before arcing around the ice into a complicated footwork sequence.  “ _Anyway_ who does he train with for – I know Lovegood’s his choreographer but he’s just so languid and powerful and – ”

Wincing, Sirius ruffles his collar up around his neck, tousling his bun in the process, “I think this is worse than the time you drunkenly confessed you have sexual fantasies about him.”

Squeaking, Lily slaps a hand over his mouth and darts her eyes around, but luckily the crowd _agrees_ that James has amazing presence on the ice.  “Would you _shut up_?”

Sirius raises his brows and she’s just tilts her head, only pulling her hand back when Sirius decides his only option is to devolve and _lick_ her.

She swipes her hand along his sleeve, shoving him a bit when she’s done.  “ _Gross_ , I’m _trying_ to talk about my partner and our careers.”

“Oh I have no doubt you think that’s what’s happening.”

But Lily’s already turned back to the ice, sucking in a breath as James makes the rotations on his last jump but falls – badly.  And of course he pushes up from the ice, white shards bright against his dark trousers, working to pick up momentum again.

Lily frowns, “I think he’ll still manage top five,” she looks at Sirius, brow wrinkling, “And then he’s still got the long.”

Humming, Sirius watches as James does his final spins, digging his toe pick into the ice and ending with a triumphant grin.  But he sees the hesitance as James steps from the rink and moves into the kiss and cry – unable to take his forced grin for its intent.

* * *

When six-year-old James had seen a figure skater training on the rink before junior ice hockey practice, he’d immediately grabbed his father’s sleeve and dropped his stick without a second’s hesitation.  And while many would’ve called James spoiled for all his parents – sometimes overwhelming – support, they really did genuinely parent him, talk him down from his occasional high horse, and most definitely hesitate when he asked to switch sports.  It had been a lot of back and forth, ‘are you sure’, ‘you just quit karate for hockey last year’, and whispered conversations about whether putting an already mildly socially awkward only child into a singles sport would make some of his oddities worse, but eventually he’d won them over.  Or more accurately, he and _Sirius_ won them over.

A local coach agreed to give James a few trial lessons to see if he had potential – at age six, yes, no one said Moody wasn’t a tough codger – and let him get a feel for the sport.  On his third, Moody’s next student arrived early and watched quietly from the sidelines. Moody called James off the ice, leaning heavily on his cane as he made his way toward the snack shop.

Sitting down on one of the front seats, James began tugging his laces free and rubbing at his sore hip where he’d fallen one too many times.  His eyes darting to his silent companion, James finally decides he can’t take the quiet any more and smiles hesitantly, “Alright?”

“Yeah, you were.  For a gangly git,” the boy with the shiny mane of hair had teased, somehow without malice, “You’ve only had a few lessons, yeah?”

James nods, “Moody says it’s a trial until he sees if I have enough potential.”

Pausing before he took to the ice, the boy had turned back and sent him a grin, “Moody doesn’t mince words – if he thought you were shit he’d have dumped you within the first quarter hour.”

Flushing at the word his parents _never_ let him say, James smiled at the pseudo compliment, “Thanks, I guess,” he offered his hand, “I’m James.”

“Sirius.”

And after that, tiny James rode home in the back seat of his dad’s town car, babbling a mile a minute about Sirius and figure skating in _almost_ equal measure.  At the supper table that night, Fleamont placed his hand over Euphemia’s and winked at James, “How about we permanently drop the hockey, eh?”

So, almost two decades of friendship later, it’s a bit odd when Sirius pulls out one earbud and glances at James through the mirror.  “Did I ever tell you how I got into skating?”

“It was your ticket to spending as much time away from your psycho family as possible?”

Sirius snorts, “Reg is alright.”

Pausing his music, James laughs, “ _Now_.”

Sobering, Sirius sets down the dumbbells and faces James fully, “So when I tell you I’m thinking about retiring – ”

“Have you told Lily?” James asks immediately, sitting down on one of the benches littering the room while Sirius does the same.

“No – I don’t want to worry her if it’s not for real.  But I want to decide as soon as possible so she has time to get used to someone new,” Sirius explains, trailing off and eyeing James curiously as he frowns at his hands.

“That makes sense, I s’pose.” James murmurs.

Nudging James’ trainer with his, Sirius laughs, “Don’t really know who can follow _me_.”

* * *

“I don’t care what you say, a _quad_ — which I remind you is so named because it’s _four revolutions_ — is more difficult than nitpicking which edge of your skate is on the ice,” James asserts, snatching a stick of celery and shaking a bit of salt on it, barely pulling away before Sirius can slap his hand.

Sirius is scraping the last few carrot slices into the salad bowl, eyes darting back and forth between James’ unconcerned expression and Lily’s increasingly heated one, as he drawls, “James I know you think this is part of your weird, uncomfortable foreplay — “

“Stuff it, Sirius,” James and Lily interrupt in odd synchronization, before Lily continues, “If a big arse with a head fatter than a giant squid can do one it can’t be that hard.”

“Is that a metaphorical or literal insult about the size of his head?” Sirius asks, before James can say anything to either make this worse, or end with some hate fueled sex that makes him want to bleach his eyes. And it seems to work, because they both focus on him, blinking blearily as if they’d forgotten he was present in the haze of their row.

They both stare for a moment before James cracks a smile and Lily sighs and turns fully to her former opponent, “Why do we tolerate him?”

James shrugs, “Apparently he wins gold medals.”

“It’s more the cooking,” Lily amends, peering into the large pot bubbling on the stove.

“I don’t have to stand for this — my cooking and I can go _elsewhere_ ,” Sirius sniffs, “Where we will be appropriately appreciated.”

James grabs the salad bowl and serving forks, “We were appreciating you; did you not hear Lily?”

Rising on tiptoes — which has James not so subtly staring — Lily pulls three bowls from the cabinet for soup, “If I keep you around solely for cooking despite the fact that you’re a bit socially-“

“Terrible,” James supplies.

Lily nods, “Terrible, that means I _must_ appreciate your talents.”

“Next week I’m basing our entire meal around chickpeas.”

“But Lily hates chickpeas,” James murmurs before his eyes light in realization, “What about me?”

“Only you would be jealous of a revenge plot,” Lily teases, nudging his ankle beneath the table as she spears a carrot with her fork.

“I’ll get to you much sooner, roomie,” Sirius threatens, teeth glinting.

James blinks at him, then gestures with his fork, “That would be loads more menacing without the Kermit and Miss Piggy t-shirt.”

“Piggy is a badass,” Sirius answers loftily.

Dinner passes in the usual manner after that, teasing, chitchat, and eventually they spill into the living room, claiming their favored spots across the tufted furniture.  While Sirius scrolls through Netflix for something lighthearted James grabs his laptop and plugs in Moody’s USB, dragging the video of that day’s practice onto his desktop, sighing as he shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

Lily eyes him for a moment before wordlessly tucking a spare cushion under his hip and settles against his side, head pillowed against his shoulder.  She blinks tiredly as James clicks to open the first video, then opens a new web browser while his computer takes a thousand years to load the recording.

Just drifting off into a light doze, Lily is jarred awake by James’ rather melodramatic groan.  “Bloody – it’s marked _fluff.”_

Blinking tiredly, she narrows her eyes to read the small script, “You – why are you reading that stuff again?”

“I think,” he pauses and scrolls up again to the top, “’petals-to-fish’ is trying to kill me.”

Sirius chuckles, kicking his feet up on the table and slumping down low, “More fanfiction about my amazing sexual prowess?”

“It’s apparently called a ‘sick fic’ – “ James grumps, “Fanfiction Lily is nursing you back to health and then you end up _cuddling_.”

_“I told you to be careful, Sirius.” Lily purred, burying her head into Sirius’ shoulder._

_“I had to do it Lily.” Sirius said valiantly, “To fix our scores.”_

_“The scores don’t matter if you’ve died.” Lily whispers into his ear, “I can’t imagine living without you.”_

“I tell you the first thing wrong with this – I _never_ get sick,” Sirius asserts, lofty, and drags his hair into a messy bun.

“Tell that to my favorite warm ups,” Lily drawls.

James snorts, “Or my mum’s coverlet.”

“Or – “

Cutting them both off with a pillow to the face each, Sirius scowls, “Couple of ingrates you are.”

“Don’t worry, Black,” Lily sighs, grabbing James’ computer and pushing it onto the table to free his lap for her legs, “You can join our snuggle pile anytime.”

* * *

Their blades slice around the ice in perfect sync, Sirius’ hand familiar and comforting on the small of her back, while McGonagall eyes them contemplatively.  After that familiar pinch to her side Sirius gives every time they’re readying for a twizzle sequence, Lily’s arms come up into position and her feet follow the already familiar pattern with expert – albeit still hesitant – precision.

Which doesn’t mean she’s expecting McGonagall’s shrill whistle to sound when they’ve not even gotten halfway through the skate.

Swiping back her fly-aways, Lily slides over with Sirius close behind, tightening his ponytail.

“Not up to standards, Mr. Black, bit fumbling even for this early in the season,” she turns her attention to Lily, “You’re still hesitating, as usual – _practice_ attacking before you get a bad habit.”

Just as she’s about to send them out again, Sirius clears his throat, “Too soon for a little trip to the loo?”

Blinking at him, McGonagall purses her lips, but nods, “Five minutes.”

He’s not been gone half a minute when James comes jogging in the side entrance, backpack thrown over one shoulder and hair a messy riot around his face, curls tickling his collar.  McGonagall’s already off making notes so Lily pumps her legs a few paces and slides to a stop where James lingers near the rink side, hands braced against the wall. “Alright, Evans?”

Lily grins and braces her elbows between his palms, “James.”

James fishes around in the pockets of his joggers before pulling a mobile free, “Sirius forgot his phone.”

“Sirius?  Forgetting something?” Lily laughs, “ _Never_.”

Fingers flexing their grip, James finally drags his gaze away from Lily’s and begins walking alongside the ice, Lily quickly following his lead as they chatter, heads tilted together.  Familiar and warm.

Which is the sight a none-too surprised Sirius is treated to when he emerges from the lavatories.  He contemplates their forms for a moment, laughing as Lily shoves James’ shoulder and nearly sends him sprawling, and finds himself all the more certain regarding his impending decision.

* * *

Really, given his entirely unsubtle nature, James or Lily really should have picked up on the fact that Sirius was scheming – being his best mate/flat mate and skating partner, respectively – but it takes the proverbial pie to the face for the two of them to cotton on.

Looking back, it really started with the mobile phone incident.  But that merely set things in motion – vague conversations about life goals and career changes and how to know when you’ve got to move on.

Because for all his blustering, Sirius has never really gotten to being up front with Lily about what _he_ wants.  Not that she had to drag him through – because anyone who knows Sirius Orion Black knows the man cannot be forced to do anything – but she knows he’s never quite loved _skating_ as much as she does.  He loved the competition, the artistry, the thrill of a well-done skate, but all those things he could easily find in another arena, should he so choose.

And Lily’s been gearing up for that choice since the flight home from the Games, when she’d ‘accidentally’ – read: rifled through his carry on for his chocolate stash – happened upon his list of new ‘hobbies’ to try.  One of which included becoming a neurosurgeon. Some hobby that.

So between his casual conversation, Lily’s amateur sleuthing, and Sirius’ overall malaise at the rink, she’s expecting to be in the market for a new partner.  Or worst case scenario, a new career.

What she’s _not_ expecting – and really should have been – is for him to decide not to show.  It’s already half past and McGonagall’s stepped into the back room to top off her travel mug and grab a biscuit, when James saunters in, skates thrown over one shoulder and bag in hand.  “Hey where’s – “ James starts, then drops his head and groans, “Should I even ask?”

“Looking back, we really should’ve seen this coming, eh?” Lily chuckles, stepping onto the rough carpet and slipping bright green guards over her blades.

They sit, silent for a moment, and when McGonagall doesn’t emerge, James realizes how much Sirius thought this plan through.  And despite any lingering frustration at being had, he really hates to let that effort go to waste. Lily’s pulling at the worn knee of her leggings when James clears his throat, “So, I’ve mostly lost my quad.”

Lily turns, abrupt and ready to defend his skating, but he shakes his head wryly, “I only get it every few tries – if I’m lucky – and I can’t keep this up for a whole season.  Let alone over two years ‘til the next Olympics.”

“I know he’s being subtle,” Lily says after a pause, quiet, “But I think Sirius doesn’t want to be my partner anymore.”

* * *

He makes a special point of calling on Moody when he’s not just coming off an arse-breaking practice. In fact, things went well enough that if he were less certain about the longevity of his singles technique he’d be reconsidering the decision. But he knows — knows what it feels like to be fully committed and knows how hard it is even when you are.

Still, it’s good to go out on a high note – one Olympic gold medal under his belt, top three in his recent competitions, and he only fell fully on his arse once last practice.  He heads into Moody’s office, knocking twice and getting a gruff response of ‘come in’.

Moody finishes scrawling notes across whatever he’s working on, leaving James to wait with uncharacteristic patience, jiggling his leg only slightly.

Finally, Moody drops the pen and only eyes James’ nervous tic for a moment before he pins him with his gaze, “You’re retiring.”

“How – “

“I’ve been your coach for almost a decade,” Moody says in his quiet grunt, “I’d be an idiot if I couldn’t read your moods.”

“I just, I don’t want to be alone,” James says finally, “Singles is – ”

“Singular,” Moody finishes, his mouth twitching in the closest he ever gets to a smile – including James’ gold medal winning skate.  “I saw you play kiddie hockey,” Moody murmurs, “Not very good.”

James laughs, toying with the seam of his jeans, “Nah, I’ve got another plan,” he bites his lip, “Hopefully.”

* * *

People speculate a lot, about what makes their partnership work – romance the most popular theory amongst fans – but Lily and Sirius both know their matched ability to play figurative chicken with emotions is what drew them together.  And what’s dragging this out.

Which is why Lily blinks down at him where he’s splayed on the floor, legs extended upward where she balances on his feet, and grins, “Y’know I don’t think I could ever trust anyone like I trust you,” his silver gaze flicks toward her as she continues brow quirking challengingly despite the weightiness of her words, “Maybe couldn’t do all _this_ without you.”

“Who told you?” Sirius finally asks, and Lily silently triumphs over him – literally and figuratively – before dropping back to the floor.

“We’re partners,” Lily says after a minute, “I know you.”

Sirius rubs his face down with a towel and drops onto one of the weight benches that litter the room, waiting her out.

Lily pulls out an exercise band, warming her ankles, and relents, “Found a few pamphlets for culinary school at yours and James’ flat.”

“I was going to say something,” Sirius answers, “Soon.”

Patting his hand, Lily smiles softly, “You don’t have to explain.  I know you’re a lot more thoughtful than most would expect.”

He barks out a laugh, head dropping back ‘til his ponytail brushes his back, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Her smile’s a little watery as she laughs and wanders over to sit next to him, shoulder bumping his.  And in a tribute to their connection, their understanding of more than just the other’s strengths and weaknesses on the ice, Sirius doesn’t say anything, just brushes a kiss over her hair and lets his arm come around her shoulders.

After a few moments, Lily brushes at her cheeks swiftly and Sirius squeezes her shoulder, “Forgive me for leaving?”

Laughing, Lily sniffs and clears her throat, “Only if you promise you’ll be my personal chef after.”

They rise in unison – some habits will never really break – and begin gathering their things while Sirius teases, “I thought I already was, eh?”

“Then you’re a _fool_ , Black.”

* * *

When James finds Lily in the back corner of their local coffee shop, he’s fairly certain he knows what this conversation is going to be, and he’s also fairly sure he knows how it’s going to end up.  What he’s _not_ expecting is a nervous Lily Evans fiddling with the protective sleeve on her cup, gaze pinned to the tabletop.

He’s about to make his way over and let her know he’s there, but she looks up and waved him toward the counter, gesturing to her own drink.

Nodding back, James orders a treat of a drink he’ll regret later and buys one of the freshly baked shortbread cookies to split between them before making his way toward the secluded table.

“Lily.”

“James,” she says, not giving anything away.

“ _Lily_ ,” he murmurs back, quieter, pressing.

Sighing, Lily releases her clenched fingers, “I was hoping you’d be an easier mark than Sirius.”

“Hope you’re not a betting woman, Lil,” James says around the rim of his cup, “Poor judgment.”

She scoffs, and steals a corner of his cookie, “I have _excellent_ judgment, thank you.”

“Says the woman who thought Sirius Black’s confirmed best mate since childhood would be an easy mark.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Lily posits, scooting her chair closer and smirking at him in that way that sends his heart thudding and his fingers twitching for something to do.  And some indeterminate part of him wishing this meeting _wasn’t_ what it is.

“Speaking of dreams,” James says after a beat, and he wants to kick himself for the childish attempt at a transition, which Lily notes but doesn’t acknowledge beyond a teasing twinkle in her eye.   _What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Potter?_

When he shows no sign of continuing, Lily takes pity and presses on, “I assume Sirius has told you his plans?”

“He promised to be my personal chef,” James smirks.

“Bastard,” Lily smirks, “He’s promised me the very same.”

“We’ll have to fight for him, then,” James answers, stealing his own bit of biscuit, “Or do opposite weeks like other couples, er-”

That, finally, breaks the dam of Lily’s laughter, head dropping back and red hair drifting behind her back like a satin curtain.  “You act like you’ve never had a chat with a woman; let alone _me_.”

“This is a bit more nerve-wracking than chatting up a random bird,” James answers, finding his tongue, “And I can’t much do that either,” he admits with a flush, “Ask Sirius.  He’ll be glad to share – in great detail.”

Lily finds his hand on the tabletop and grips it firmly, “I’ll let that lie for the moment.”

James takes a steadying breath and squeezes back before releasing her fingers, “I think I’ll feel much better once we’ve got it all on the table – I want to make the switch to ice dancing.”

“And I’d like to _continue_ ice dancing but currently find myself _sans_ partner,” Lily responds, sipping her tepid tea.

The noise in the shop begins to rise to that late afternoon din when James leans forward and grins, “Perhaps we’re a match made in heaven then, eh?”

* * *

In a lot of ways, they really are a match made by whoever in heaven gives a rat’s arse about ice dancing.  They’re responsible, devoted, motivated – and neither has unendurable body odor.

The only real issue is the fact that Lily’s considering encasing herself in bubble wrap before their next practice before her body becomes one giant bruise.  And it’s not for the reasons one would think when a previously exclusively single skater gets a partner – James hasn’t done worse than fumbling her once or twice – he just doesn’t trust himself.

Which means she’s got James’ shaped hand prints all over her after each practice from his death grip on her legs, her waist, even her wrists.

But he’s just so _earnest_ that Lily’s not gotten the courage up to tell him to loosen up.  So now she’s got the initial problem, which has somehow become a symptom of a larger problem – namely that she can’t bring herself to be honest with her partner.

It’s only a half-month into their fledgling partnership that Lily’s problem solves itself.  Or more accurately, James’ eagle-eyed observation skills solve her problem.

They’re in one of the practice rooms, sweatshirts tossed to the side in a haphazard pile and sweat dripping over their reddened faces, when Lily trots lightly and leaps into his arms, biting back a wince when his hands land on her hips.

Apparently though, she doesn’t quite hide it enough and James is letting her drift from his grip and to the grown, face scrunched in concern, “Alright?  D’you need a doctor?”

Grabbing a towel from her sport tote, Lily dabs at her chest, delaying the inevitable as long as possible before she drops onto the musty carpet, back cooling against the chill mirror.  “You – when we do lifts, it’s about trust.”

James nods, settling down across from her and sipping from his water bottle silently.

“But not just about trusting each other – you’ve got to trust _you_.”

“You should be a life coach, Evans,” James laughs quietly.

“I’ve got to whip my new partner into shape – no time to retire,” Lily teases, nudging his trainer with hers.

He laughs and they’re comfortably silent for a few moments before James finally sighs, nudging her back.  “I guess – it’s been a bit hard to trust. I’ve spent my whole life doing one thing and now – “

“You’ve been in the revenge business so long, eh?” Lily teases, false accent heavy as she mimics an old favorite film.

“Oh God, I haven’t watched good ol’ Inigo in a long while,” James chuckles, leaning back on his palms.

Pushing to her feet, Lily tosses her towel aside and offers her hand, “Time to remedy that with some quality partner bonding time, I’d say.”

James lets her tug him to his feet, “You’re the expert, Evans.  I bow to your lead.”

Lily winks playfully, “I knew we’d work out.”

* * *

McGonagall’s shrill whistle brings them to a grinding stop on the ice, white flakes spraying over their dark warm-ups.  “Try again. Potter, _you_ have to lead – and you’ve got to lead _somewhere_.”

Lily squeezes his hand as they skate over and he blinks, “Where am I leading her?”

McGonagall doesn’t get past her scoff – the one that hides her smile at his cheek – because Sirius strolls in and takes over.  “You’ve got to lead her down a dark, sultry path, James.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily leans on the side wall, “This is a _closed_ practice, Black.”

“Don’t be bitter, Lils,” Sirius drawls, “I’ll teach James to be as close to my sex appeal as possible.”

“I’m a fucking sex pot,” James shoots back, hand pressed to his chest.

Rolling her eyes, McGonagall tells them to take five and heads for her office, presumably to sip a fresh cup of tea that she swears _isn’t_ dressed with a splash of whiskey.  Though anyone who had ever spent more than ten minutes trying to coach James or Sirius wouldn’t blame her if it was whiskey with a bit of tea.  With both at once – Lily’s about to ask for a nip herself.

Sirius claims a seat in the front row and crosses his legs and extends them far out in front, “I do have an idea what the lovely lady Minerva’s getting at, if you want my input.”

James quirks a brow in invitation and Sirius accepts with relish, “You’ve got the acting down fine, by yourself,” his eyes drag across them both, “You’ve got to act with _her_.  Why do you think everyone was so convinced we,” he gestures between himself and Lily, “were a thing.”

The duo step from the ice and take seats themselves, Lily leaning forward to tighten her laces while James braces his elbows on his knees, hiding his flush.  “How d’you suggest I do that?”

Which is how James ends up dressed in his tightest pants and a shirt that needs a few more closed buttons – styling care of one Sirius Black – and throwing back the singular shot he’s allowing himself.   _Also_ at Sirius’ request.  “Pomfrey’s gonna kill me for screwing around with alcohol.”

“One isn’t going to hurt anyone,” Lily winks, gulping her own down while Sirius wraps his arms around their shoulders, “Especially if we all keep this to ourselves, _nark_.”

James shoves Sirius’ side as they near the dance floor, music pulsing so it thrums up from his toes and out through to his fingertips, his head nearly spinning with the rhythm.

Most would assume that James’ profession would make a situation like this easy – he obviously has rhythm, some sort of artistic ability that is tangentially related to dancing – but his whole life has been some pre-choreographed routine.  On and off the ice it can start to feel like everything’s some calculated series of steps he can’t quite break free of.

Which, come to think of it, may be what Sirius is trying to help with.

But no one can blame him for missing it when Sirius’ moments of brilliance tend to be accompanied by wriggling brows and teasing japes.  A lifetime of friendship means James _does_ eventually catch on…just often after he ends up bearing his chest and being pushed and prodded into an undulating crowd of club-goers.

Lily follows close behind, her face alight with a carefree smile that’s all the more beautiful for its rarity.  “Alright, partner. Assume the position.”

She holds her arms in position rather robotically, twiddling her fingers as an invitation while Sirius bops along just to the side, disgustingly attractive at all times.  Rolling his shoulders, James mirrors Lily’s stance and lets his hand find her waist.

With a snort, Sirius presses them closer together.  “You two look like you’re dancing together for the first time at a country ball thrown to get the local young folk together.”

“Your Jane Austen obsession is showing,” Lily drawls, but she doesn’t pull away.

“It’s a proclivity, thank you very much,” Sirius corrects, before disappearing into the crowd with a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

Lily tugs him closer by his shoulder and James tries to ignore the thudding of his heart in time with the beat as her body presses along his.  Which likely sounds strange to anyone who knows just how up close and personal they’ve been with each other since starting their partnership, but this is entirely new territory, despite appearances to the contrary.

Because here, Lily’s hair is long and swaying around her shoulders like a velvet curtain that tickles his jawline when she twirls in his arms.  Here, Lily’s light and carefree. And not because she wants to give the _appearance_ of it, but because she really is – with _him_ , in a club, with her chest pressed against his while the lights flash overhead.

She sends him a challenging glance, brows rising in a flick of a movement, before she darts her feet forward, lets her hips twist while his follow along like clockwork.

Which _is_ part of the beauty of their partnership, their collaboration – they haven’t had to work for that connection between them, it was just _there_ from the start.  So much that James started to feel the _rightness_ of the choice.

He’s drawn from his rambling thoughts when Lily maneuvers them through the crowd, twisting him out and then pulling herself back in toward his chest with a sharp tug.  A laugh bubbles in his throat. “Aren’t I supposed to lead?”

Lily dips herself backward so James thinks her hair must nearly brush the floor, her face flushed with exertion and the baby hairs framing her face curling in the electric light that flashes overhead.

“Be my guest, Potter,” Lily smirks when she raises back to full height, grip firm on his hand and shoulder respectively.

By the time the opening trumpets of the next song sounds and James drops his head back with a groan, Sirius has reemerged from the crowd.  “I put in a special request for you, James.”

“Piss off.”

“Come on, show me those truth-telling hips,” Sirius laughs, “And maybe you should try _leading_ this time.”

Lily snickers and James has had enough, so he pulls her close by her waist and tips her backward, letting his nose drift along her sternum before snapping both of them upright.  Her eyes are a bit hazy when she lifts them back to his, and James pins his gaze on hers and mimics her movements from before, feet prompting hers in backward movements, leading her in a pattern through the crowd while Sirius whistles and applauds from the periphery.

Running his palm up her spine, James presses his lips to her ear, “Alright, Evans?”

Fingers tickling at his neck, Lily murmurs back, challenge heavy in her voice, “Never better, _Potter_.”

And then her fingers are spearing through his wild hair and he’s running his hands up her sides and dragging her arms overhead while their hips move together.  As they drift further into the crowd, the heat rises, bodies pressing while James and Lily get close enough that the space between them is nonexistent.

The next time Lily twirls away from him, James feels bereft along with the rush of chill air that hits his chest in her absence, until she’s back in his arms, nose-to-nose, almost lip-to-lip.  Their breaths mix and James sees her pupils dilate, feels her fingers contract on his shoulder, and he’s so far gone he nearly loses track of what they’re doing, of why they’re here.

Sirius’ request is long since over and James couldn’t name the song playing if you offered him a million pounds.  So when a far too tipsy woman tottering on heels and sporting a boa lined tiara that says ‘BRIDE’ in large sparkly letters stumbles into them and spills her fruity cocktail right into James’ face, he’s jarred from the near hypnosis with shocking speed.

As the stranger’s friends usher her away with shouted apologies and a few lingering looks, James licks the droplets from his lips, entirely missing Lily’s own lingering glance as he flicks a guffawing Sirius off.

Lily brushes stray ice chips from his glasses with a furrowed brow and tilts her head toward the bar.  “Lets find something to clean you up, yeah?”

* * *

After that, the next few months pass fairly uninterestingly, with daily practices, strength training, and whatever else Olympic hopefuls do on a regular basis to make their dream a reality.  James gets more confident in his abilities as a partner and Lily slowly adjusts to him.

Lily’s on the way home from a Pilates session, traffic moving relatively steadily when she feels a tug toward the ice.  She always thinks her days off from the rink she’ll want to stay as far away as possible, but inevitably she gets drawn back to it like a magnet.

Luckily at some point she began anticipating herself and has a spare set of skates in her trunk along with a cozy sweatshirt she stole from Sirius a few months back.  The lock beeps twice when she presses the key and she fumbles it back into her bag and trots across the half empty car park, just barely avoiding the chilly drizzle that peppers the lot with black spots.

The first burst of cold air brings redness to her cheeks and a spring to her step; a refreshing rush after muggy hours spent building and stretching her muscles.  After a moment, she drops her bag and skates to tugs the worn Chelsea jumper over her head and snuggles into its warmth. By the time she’s reached the corridor that leads to the main rink – it’s got entirely too many photos of her, James, and Sirius for comfort but they _are_ valuable alumna – she can hear childish laughter and cheers echoing through the cavernous room.  Followed by a shrill whistle and a familiar lilting voice giving instructions.

And yet, even with the audible clue, her breath still catches when she gets visual confirmation of James Ignotius Potter being _excellent_ with children.  Which she doesn’t really know is a thing for her until she sees him guide one of them over to the side and kneel so he can re-tie their skate.

The little girl wobbles in her puffy pink coat and James tilts his head up, saying something with a kind smile, which earns him a decisive nod and responding grin in return.  Then the tiny skater rests her childish hands on James’ head, the still chubby fingers disappearing into his riot of curls and helping her keep balance while he finishes the knot with a flourish.

He receives a kiss on the cheek for his troubles and then the girl’s off again with her white skate trainer.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Lily finally gets the impetus to leave her hideaway and make her way to James.  “How much did you piss off McGonagall to get kiddie duty?”

James laughs, but rolls his eyes and nudges her elbow.  “They’re adorable. No blackmail involved.”

“So you bludgeoned their normal teacher to get some rink time with the babies?”

He pauses to raise two thumbs up as one of the older kids arcs across the ice, leg extended.

“ _Yes_ , Evans,” James drawls, rolling his eyes and earning a pinch from Lily.  He rubs at the afflicted arm and sighs, “Coach had a family emergency, I was here – ”

McGonagall emerges from her office and nods with an all too infrequent smile at James before dismissing the students with a clap of her hands, though she’s quickly inundated with concerned parents in clad in Saturday morning sweats.

Lily grins, “Oh even better – you’re a _brown noser_.”

“Piss off,” James grumbles, lips quirking.

“I can’t believe Sirius doesn’t know this – were you a teacher’s pet?” Lily prods, poking at his middle, “Not the obvious kind though I bet.”

An embarrassed flush rises on James cheeks as he laughs.  “ _No_.”

She pulls the hair tie from her wrist and works her hair into a loose braid.  “Like – you didn’t answer questions in class, but you went for office hours,” he doesn’t deny it and she grins, “ _All the time_.  Got top grades on everything.”

“So being studious is a crime?” James grumps, folding his arms, “You were probably no slouch – ”

Lily shrugs and sits down to pull her skates on, “Got to be good enough that teachers overlook your witty barbs.”

“Sass master, eh?” James asks, sliding his blades back and forth over the ice in a nervous tic while Lily tests her laces and bobbles over.

“You know it,” she pushes his shoulder, “Now shove off, I’m having a skate.”

James follows a few paces behind before speeding up, “Wait – I was here first.”

“So you’ve had your turn,” Lily sniffs, speeding up and abandoning any attempt at a relaxed skate.

Matching her pace, James manages to gain on her enough to grab one already chilled hand.  “Doesn’t work that way, Evans. ‘Sides, we’re _partners_.  Partners share.”

She blinks at him as he begins to swing their arms back and forth, batting his eyes behind his glasses.  James tugs her along, skating backwards with a childlike expression that would probably get Lily to follow him almost anywhere.  “C’mon Lily. It’s bonding time.”

They skate along side-by-side, silent but for the scrape of their blades on the ice, Lily’s head pillowed on his bicep.  “Can I as you something?”

James cranes his neck and eyes her curiously, “Shoot.”

“Did you oil your chest the other night, or did Sirius?”

“I’m not sure which answer you want to hear, Lily,” James teases, wriggling his brows, “That I took the time to oil myself, or that Sirius rubbed me down while I was half naked.”

* * *

It’s early when Lily steps off the elevator in her well-worn warm-ups, scratched travel mug in hand.  Sirius answers on the third knock, as usual, and greets her with a grin, “Ready?”

Lily slips past him into the flat and tugs a candle from her bag, waving it in front of her, “Got a light?”

When she enters, James is slipping a sweatshirt on inside out and backwards and grinning behind crooked black plastic glasses he only wears on early mornings and late nights.  “Morning, Evans.”

She snags a chunk of melon and slips into her customary seat at the table, James and Sirius following suit soon after.  It’s all their usual competition day foods, served up in excess because Sirius is nothing if not generous, and Lily’s _starving_.  Her appetite always abandons her the night before an important competition and returns in full force around seven a.m. the following day.

Which is why Lily’s on her second waffle when James gestures to her candle.  “How many of those do you have stockpiled?”

“Enough,” Lily hedges before grabbing a slice of veggie bacon and crunching into it with a sigh.

“She’s got at least one linen closet full,” Sirius murmurs over the rim of his coffee mug, grey eyes challenging as he glances at Lily.

“Stuff it.”

James drops some fresh strawberries into his oatmeal and smiles, “If it does what I think it does, we need an annex at an alternate location in case that scent gets discontinued.”

“And we get a local criminal who has a thing for scented candles?”

“In recognition of you respecting The Rule, I will overlook your sass, Mr. Potter,” Lily grumbles around a mouthful of egg whites.

Spraying a generous helping of whipped cream onto his own waffles, Sirius smirks, “I have him well trained about the c-word.”

“He threatened to confiscate my lucky jumper,” James shrugs, “My own mum conspired against me.”

Lily pats James’ hand and sighs, “Sob stories are for _babies_ , Potter.”

Eyeing the clock, Sirius begins clearing the table and grabs James’ water bottle from the fridge.  “Mum loves me best, James, sorry.”

James snorts, “S’true,” he darts his eyes to Lily and winks, “Mostly because they braid each other’s hair.”

“Adorable,” Lily drawls, propping her chin on her palm.

While Sirius brings the rest of the plates into the kitchen and loads the dishwasher, James bustles about in relative calm and readies his remaining necessities.  “We taking your car?”

Nodding, Lily jiggles her keys and leads James to the door, “See you there, Black?”

“Affirmative, Captain!” he shouts from the kitchen.

“Let’s go, partner.”

Once they’re on the road, James plugs his iPod in and sets his C-Day playlist on to shuffle. Lily knows most of the songs and sings along — _loudly_ — to prove it. And the ones she doesn’t, she boos along quietly, unless she tries to guess the lyrics loudly and emphatically. Which is about thirty percent of the time.

They’re about ten minutes out when James turns and grins at her, “Having a good time over there?”

“Get _pumped_ Potter,” Lily answers in a near shout, flicking her turn signal on and slowing as they near the arena.

Their laughter mingles, louder and wilder than maybe is warranted, but there are worse ways to let out nervous energy and James can’t help the excitement that’s bubbling somewhere in his chest.  

James meets Lily at the boot of the car and she quickly ticks her hand in the crook of his arm, head pillowed against his shoulder. “Ready?”

“I’m wearing a jumper wrong side out, my hair looks like a tumbleweed, and I’m only eighty percent sure I brought my contacts so, sure.”

Laughing, she squeezes his bicep and sighs, “Sirius once skated without underwear.”

“How did he — never mind.”

“I think the answer to your question is ‘he’s Sirius,’” Lily says fondly as they enter the imposing building.

Then she slips her hand into his and tugs him toward a lengthening queue and smiles reassuringly, “Now let’s check in and get this show on the road, yeah?”

* * *

After they sign in, the next hours pass in a blur as they find McGonagall, somewhere to change, and a private corridor to warm up in — well away from any other competitors.

Lily’s got her sweats pulled up over her legs, her flowing skirt awkwardly cascading over the grey cotton as she paces to keep her legs warm.

James does the same a few feet away, swinging his arms in random patterns to ensure his shoulders stay loose, despite the chill.

“Want me to zip you?” Lily murmurs, shoving a hundredth bobby pin into her hair and casting around for her second bottle of hairspray.

He switches to shrugs and shakes his head. “Nah, this thing’s like a sauna suit.”

She squints at him for a moment before taking a seat on one of the chairs McGonagall had wrangled for them and spreads her knees to make room for the second. “Take a seat.”

“Is this some weird initiation ritual?”

“Wherever you’d like to call it,” Lily shrugs, tugging her tote closer and rifling around inside.

With only a handful of hesitation, James saunters over and slides into the seat with easy grace, knees tucked between Lily’s thighs.

“Close your eyes.”

James quirks a brow but complies, the scent of Lily’s peppermint gum tickling his nostrils as she finally sits upright.  

At the first pat on his cheek, James groans, “ _Must_ I?”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“We’re not even matching,” James huffs childishly, though he doesn’t pull away from Lily’s gentle touch.

“I bought one for you especially,” Lily says, clucking her tongue impatiently, “I’m trying to make you look good. Not like a mime.”

“Don’t insult mimes, Evans. It’s unbecoming.”

“I’m not feeling very appreciated.”

James opens one eye and Lily nearly pokes it with an errant finger. “So did you steal my skin while I was as sleeping?  Is my partner Hannibal Lecter?”

“You and I understand that story very differently,” Lily drawls, dragging the sponge over his forehead and tugging a curl to dangle a bit lower. “What do I have to do to get some blush on you?”

“Sweet nothings usually work,” James answers easily, “If you want it real deep, try some dirty stuff.”

“You and Sirius have problems.”

“And _you_ choose us,” James points out.

“Perhaps I am a masochist after all.”

James and Lily agreed ahead of time that neither particularly enjoyed the stress of watching their competitors – which is present whether or not the team in question is doing well. So they’d put together a shared playlist and resolved to steer clear until McGonagall fetched them to get ready – she preferred to sit primly in the stands and watch the competition with her eagle-eyed stare, silent and calculating.

After warming up extensively on their own, they practice the lifts and walk through some of the more complicated footwork as best as they can before McGonagall calls them up for the second half.

James knits his fingers through Lily’s and sends her a sideways grin, “Ready?”

“Always – you?”

His hand pauses halfway to mussing his carefully coiffed curls with Lily’s glare and smiles, “Of course.”

They pass a few other couples on the way up, nodding shortly and keeping all chitchat to a minimum – mostly by ensuring their headphones remain firmly in place. Once they reach the locker rooms, James and Lily tuck their electronics away and hand their jackets off to McGonagall. “Focus. Ignore the others,” her eyes dart toward a particularly stuffy pair that brushes past, “Practice the twizzles during warm up – but not full speed.”

James and Lily nod sharply and make their way toward the rink, pulling off their blade guards at the last moment before they slip onto the ice, feet in sync. A few laps around the ice and James pulls her into a tight embrace and takes a deep breath that Lily mimics. She squeezes her arms around his middle once, twice, three times, and James huffs a laugh. “I’m like your own personal wishnick doll.”

“Everyone knows they only work when you rub their tummy.”

They release after another breath and resume their cycle around the rink. “Is there a request in there?”

“If you wanted a belly rub, all you had to do was ask, Potter,” Lily murmurs, knocking his shoulder with hers.

Before a retort can form on James’ tongue, McGonagall catches his eye across the ice and purses her lips. “I think I’ll take you up on that when our coach doesn’t look like she’s about to come at me with the business end of an ice skate.”

“Twizzles?” Lily snorts.

“This is no time for snacking, Lily,” James replies disappointedly.

“Shove off and lets see some fancy footwork – it’s not too late for me to recruit Gilderoy.”

“Harsh, Evans.”

“Always, Potter.”

* * *

The short dance goes well enough, though their lift is a bit slower than practice and they lose a few points for the extended air time. All in all, it’s not particularly bad for James’ first foray into actual competition – they can say it now that they’ve finished the free dance and gotten a bronze – but he can’t seem to accept that praise for what it is.

“You and Sirius haven’t gotten below silver in like,” James rolls his eyes skyward and slumps further into the couch, “Ever.”

Sirius pats James’ head as he wanders by, nose stuck in some book of French poetry while Lily groans and plops her head in James lap, “If you’re going to have an illogical pity party and expect me to talk you down, the least you can do is pet my hair.”

“I’m fairly certain she’s part cat,” Sirius drawls into his book, collapsing elegantly into the antique armchair they’d accidentally bought at an estate sale, “Humor her.”

James flushes as Lily nuzzles closer, eyes widened in panic, but he lets his slim fingers card through her damp locks. “Seriously, I’m holding you back.”

Flopping onto her back, Lily pins him with an impatient gaze and his arm lies gently across her middle. “First, Sirius and I trained in this sport for over fifteen years before we got together, so I would hope we were pretty good at it. And second, _any_ partner would’ve been a bit strange to get used to – Sirius and I were matched and we skated together for a _long_ time. Bronze medal was a great start.”

“’Sides,” Sirius says quietly, “You’ve got to let them get complacent – think this is what you’ve got.”

Lily squeezes James’ arm, “It isn’t too bad in terms of playing the long game I suppose.”

“ _Alright_ ,” James groans, low and slightly less dejected, “I will concede I haven’t destroyed our careers – yet.”

“So _dramatic_ ,” Lily sighs, throwing an arm over her forehead.

“Says the woman who refused to practice until I did my laundry,” Sirius puts in.

Turning toward James, Lily justifies, “He was wearing the same sweats everyday and hadn’t washed them in almost a fortnight.”

“Excuse me if I had _alternate_ _priorities_ – we did win a gold, didn’t we?”

Resuming his petting, James snickers, “So if I’d not washed for the last month, we’d have got gold?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Sirius replies airily, resuming his reading.

With a grunt, Lily clumsily pulls one knobby sock from her foot and tosses it at Sirius with professional accuracy, “Don’t tease him; you know he’s fragile.”

“It’s not a _lie,_ ” James adds, “I think pad thai is the only way to heal my shattered heart.”

* * *

Even with Lily’s reassurances, James throws himself into training with a renewed focus and spends his time off the ice dissecting video from competition and practice, filling a notepad with his messy scrawl. And ever the competitor, Lily joins him, taking up the dining room in his and Sirius’ flat with charts, diagrams, and other multiplying detritus that drives Sirius batty.

But if he complains, they toss things indiscriminately at him without remorse and he eventually retreats into the kitchen to prepare meals ‘that he will enjoy _alone_ ’ – though those threats are generally meaningless when their moans and praises reach him.

Still, Lily feels hyper aware of James in a way that makes her know he’s not getting enough down time – his ‘relaxation’ is basically plotting out the next two years of their lives to the day and planning how to increase his training. So when she’s clicking through the videos on his computer late one evening, she finds herself googling their names and ends up back on a familiar website. “Hey,” she nudges his arm more forcefully, “James – we’ve got fanfiction.”

He blinks at her owlishly and drapes his arm around the back of her chair, “Show me – who is – bloody hell petalstofish is back.”

Lily clicks the link and has just started to scroll down to the body of the work when James shouts, “She – it’s a damn _friendship_ fic. You and Sirius are still the ship!”

“At least it’s not smut,” Lily tries, skimming.

_“Sirius is the love of my life.” Lily pronounces to James loudly after he lowers her to the ice from the lift, “He just gets me. Do you know what that’s like?”_

_James smiles and nods, “I feel that way when I look at my boyfriend, Gildroy.”_

_Lily is so happy that she had a friend in James._

James breaks off and throws himself backward against the chair, “We have boatloads of sexual tension, Lily,” he pulls up a video of their most recent dress rehearsal, “It looks like I’m going to peel your costume off with my teeth.”

While Lily flushes, Sirius calls out from the kitchen, “Maybe _you_ should write fanfiction, James. ‘Be the change’ and all that shite.”

Dropping her head to the table, Lily groans, “Please don’t. And Sirius, where is my protein rich gourmet dinner?”

“I could use some help,” Sirius grumbles, “I’m not your mother – James you live here.”

Pressing a kiss to the crown of Lily’s head, James makes his way into the kitchen, completely oblivious to the catch in Lily’s breath and entirely unprepared for Sirius stare that pins him the moment he crosses the threshold.

“’I’m going to peel your costume off with my teeth?’”

James clears his throat nervously, “I said ‘it _looks like_ ’ – get your quotes straight.”

“Still crazy about her then?” Sirius asks simply, eyes calculating.

One hand firm over Sirius’ mouth James growls lowly, “Would you shut up – she’s my _partner_.”

“That you’re very sensitive about how much sexual tension shows,” Sirius muses.

“I know you’re an old retiree,” James teases, pulling the water pitcher from the fridge, “But you’ll remember that sensuality is usually a big part of ice dancing – unless you’re siblings.”

Sirius lifts the chicken breasts off the grill plate and glances at James sidelong, “And thank _God_ you and Lily aren’t; am I right?”

“Please don’t match make us out of the Olympics, yeah?”

With a longsuffering and not altogether comforting sigh, Sirius relents, “I will hold my tongue – for the time being.”

Nudging the refrigerator door closed behind him, James tilts his head in gratitude, “I’ll take what I can get – but negotiations are still open in the future.”

And before Sirius can volley back, Lily calls out from the dining room, “One very hangry red head out here – someone fix this before we have a national emergency.”

* * *

By the time they reach the British Figure Skating Championships, James doesn’t feel like ice dancing competitions are some odd, nebulous concept he’s still fighting to grasp. They’ve won at worlds since their partnership began and managed to garner some legitimate Olympic buzz that he does his best to tune out — despite Sirius’ best attempts.

The ice dancing competition starts about halfway through the week of skating, with the more traditional variants getting first preference.  Regardless, they take the train to Sheffield for the early days, getting in some practice time on the rink and finally agreeing to an interview at McGonagall’s request and Sirius’ orchestration.

As they tromp down to a local teashop, James nudges Sirius. “Since when are you our publicist?”

“Since you decided to be an ice dancing hermit.”

Lily snorts. “It’s called _training_ , Black.”

Throwing an arm around James’ shoulder, Sirius sighs, “I’m just trying to give you two a real presence so we’re not starting from behind with the Games.”

And honestly, not too long ago, James might’ve argued with Sirius’ confidence in their ability to make it to the Olympics, but Lily’s fierce determination and his own admittedly intense work ethic have proven to be an excellent pair — competitively speaking.

Because James _definitely_ hasn’t entertained overtired daydreams about how they seem just as in sync off the ice. That would be a blurring of lines they can’t afford and if nothing else, he’s got an eagle-eyed focus when it comes to competition.

The trio stomp the muddy snow from their boots at the door and Sirius enters first, grey eyes quick to find their waiting interviewer. “Remus is a great bloke—we can trust him.”

James shoots Sirius a sidelong glance but doesn’t push the subject and follows through the cozy room, slipping his coat from his shoulders as they go.

Lily does the same and rises on the tips of her toes to whisper against James’ ear, “I vote we punk everyone and spend this entire interview making cow eyes at each other. Maybe finish it off with a good PG-13 snog and some heavy petting.”

James chokes on his tongue.

“Is that a no?” Lily asks, eyes piercing.

“You’re a bloody menace, Evans.”

Remus grins up at them, “Sounds like a byline to me.”

* * *

Later, James and Lily hole up in their adjoining rooms and spend an hour before bed watching mindless television and resisting the urge to hit up the mini bar.

“First thing after Olympics what are you gonna do?” Lily asks after a few scenes, crunching on a carrot stick.

“Mini bar sounds pretty good at the moment,” James answers lightly, letting his fingers card through her hair.

She hums, altogether a bit too thoughtful for hotel food, and James hopes she can’t hear his heart thudding under her ear.

Clearing his throat nervously, he murmurs, “You er- how about you?”

There’s a weighty pause as Lily toys with the drawstring of his jumper and James thinks he’s somehow managed to breach that unknowable boundary between what they can and cannot say to each other.

But she does answer, pressing herself up to a sitting position, hair a scarlet waterfall down her shoulder and green eyes bright with surety.  “I think I’ll snog the daylights out of you and win myself a bet.”

“I — what?”

Lily bites her lip but plows ahead, the flush on her neck the only indication that she might be as nervous as James.  “Sirius bet I couldn’t make it through an Olympic cycle without throwing you down and having my way with you.”

“He’s got a lot of faith in my animal magnetism.”

“Shut it, you’re a right fox, you bastard,” Lily grumbles, toying with the tie on his jumper again.

James sits up, propping his back against the headboard and cupping Lily’s chin with his palm. “Back at you, Evans.”

“This is the most shallow declaration of love I’ve ever—“

“You _love_ me?” James chokes, gripping her hand so she can’t pull away, “If this is part of the damn bet —“

“You are such a wanker.”

“What a flirt you are,” James teases, leaning close so his nose skirts her cheekbone.

“Thanks for noticing — it’s like trying to woo a brick wall.”

“I believe _I_ was wooing _you_ ,” James drawls.

“Why are we arguing when we could be cashing in on some unresolved sexual tension?” Lily practically growls against his jaw and throws one leg over his hips.

“We should save some up though, yeah?” James breathes as she begins nipping at his ear.

“We'll make more,” Lily murmurs hotly, “I have faith in us.”

* * *

And old wives’ tales aside, they _do_ refrain from certain activities. Though more from complete exhaustion than any real self-control. It’s been a steady diet of intensive training for the past three months and after James gets Lily’s t-shirt off and nearly has a heart attack, they snog — and then some — before passing out in a heap.

Which would be a problem, except Lily _did_ anticipate falling asleep in James’ room though her optimism didn’t reach far enough to imagine doing so after getting to grope his tight little arse, so her alarm does blare at the ungodly hour it usually does.

Though her pillow is a bit more tempting than usual, James’ chest warm and steady beneath her cheek while he dozed fitfully.  Running her fingers up his side gently, Lily sighs. “Rise and shine, Potter.”

“Don’t wan’to,” James mumbles into her hairline, wrapping her in his arms tighter.

Kissing her way up to his neck, Lily pushes up onto one elbow.  “Eye of the tiger and all that shite, yeah?”

“I really want to win,” James starts.

“But you also really want to shag?”

“Poetic you are,” James laughs, kissing her and lingering a bit longer than intended, which Lily seems to enjoy if her low moan is an indication, before pulling away with a longing look.

They manage to regain themselves and roll to opposite ends of the bed, gathering their discarded clothes and disappearing into depressingly _separate_ loos. But a late night snog and partial love confession don’t cancel out intense competitiveness and years of ingrained superstitions, so their day progresses in a decidedly usual way – apart from a few more undisguised longing glances are exchanged during their trek to the arena.

The next two days are a whirlwind with a short dance that sets them up for another gold, a free dance that clinches it, and a few heated gazes that make articles in gossip rags pop up claiming a love triangle is shredding their friendships apart. After, when they’re fielding questions at the impromptu press conference, Lily sends James a sidelong glance after the third question regarding their romantic life and pastes on her most winning smile. “James and I are strong as ever after this competition, and more than ready to represent the United Kingdom at the Olympics in February.”

And James can practically _see_ the ‘what about Sirius’ question forming on the reporter’s lips, so he brings their to a close with a grin, “Well, as long as we get back home in time for training tomorrow,” he rises and Lily follows, “Our interview with Remus Lupin will be published in the coming weeks and hopefully provide some insight into our plans for the Games.”

* * *

Apart from some clarifications and confirmations of their mutual…feelings, James and Lily mainly stay focused on training for the eight weeks between the Championships and the Olympics, with a few carefully choreographed evenings spent attempting at home dates at Lily’s flat filled with planned meals and strategically placed ice packs.

As a congratulations gift, Sirius treats the three of them to first class tickets on the flight over which means unbelievably comfortable seats and a fairly uninterested clientele which allows Lily to snuggle into James’ side without much worry.

James kisses her forehead with the casual affection that’s blossomed between them since that night in December and Lily throws one leg over his knee. “Ready for – whatever’s about to happen?”

“Winning gold with my girlfriend and then finally having enough energy at the end of the day to blow our minds with sensual passion?”

“Don’t use the ‘g’ word,” Lily grumbles, already dozing against his shoulder.

“Girlfriend?”

“ _Gold_ , arse,” Lily says, “S’bad luck.”

There’s a pause while James runs his palm up and down her spine comfortingly, “I’d like credit for not making a soppy comment about my luck recently.”

Before Lily can answer, James is jolted forward when Sirius kicks from behind, “I would prefer to not utilize my sick bag if you don’t mind.”

* * *

James brings a selfie stick to the Opening Ceremony and takes entirely too many photos of his and Lily’s faces pressed together, noses scrunched as they smile with bright teeth and crinkled eyes. Eventually, he brings the phone down and lets Lily lead him among their fellow Olympians and breathes in the icy air, the slightly tinny sounding music, and the feel of being here _with_ someone.

Sirius live texts the ceremony from his point of view and James and Lily have to fight to keep poker faces in case their faces are picked out from the hundreds to be featured on camera. And as soon as they can, they head back to their room in the Village and make it as early a night as possible, ready to hit the ice at their ungodly rink time in the morning.

Still, Lily’s phone lights up three quarters of an hour after she slipped beneath the crisp sheets with a message.

James: Jet lag is a bitch

Lily: true story bro

Lily: I mean bro in the colloquial way

Lily: bc you’re def not my brother

Lily: at all

There’s a pause and she hears James’ chuckles in the other room. “Stuff it James, I’m overtired.”

He doesn’t answer and she’s not quite sure what he’s up to until a soft knock sounds at her door, the hinges squeaking as the door inches open. “Alright in here?”

“Come cuddle me,” Lily orders, throwing back the duvet and patting the mattress, “I forgot my body pillow.”

“I’m ready and willing,” James answers, slipping into place and putting his back toward her so she can wrap around him like a koala, “Plus I’ve got a built in heating system.”

She presses her chilled toes underneath his sleep trousers, “Invitation accepted.”

* * *

Having both been to the Olympics previously, James and Lily agreed to focus on their events and avoid socializing as much as possible until they’ve finished their skates. The team event goes well, though the United Kingdom’s team doesn’t perform well enough as a whole to make it above the fifth spot. It’s a disappointment – winning is always a plus – but the team’s chances were slim to begin with, and both singles skaters had a rough go of it.

It does give them a chance to get their jitters out early on and _before_ their short dance in the actual ice dancing events. Which saves them from any extreme blunders, but not nitpicking judges.

James turns the spigot on and leans over to spit, pointing his toothbrush at Lily definitively, “I know I’m supposed to be a good sport and shite – “ Lily snorts from her perch on the bed but lets him continue, “But that was utter bollocks.”

“Third’s not bad,” Lily answers, wrapping her arms around his middle and nuzzling his shoulder, “We can come back from that – in fact, it’s good. Dark horses and all.”

Rinsing his mouth, James dabs at his mouth with a hand towel and twists in her arms, “Do you regret it?”

“Flubbing my edges? Yeah, but it’s not like I did it on purpose,” Lily answers, smiling up at him.

“No – I – gambling on me instead of just retiring.”

Pulling back, Lily lets her hands drop to cup his elbows and eyes him for a moment, lips pursed. “I never gamble, James. Not without being sure I can accept whatever result I’m dealt.”

He blinks at her from behind smudged glasses, probably trying to get a read on her truthfulness, so she plows ahead. “I love skating, I love competing,” he gasps at the ‘C’ word and Lily rolls her eyes, “I love _you_ , and I want to win – “

“Me too,” James cuts in, “So let’s just do that, yeah?” he kisses her forehead, “Love you, love winning, let’s do both at once.”

After a quiet night in, James and Lily rise early and head to the gym for a light workout before heading over to the rink for their skate time. They only have enough time to run through their free dance once and work on a few of the rough spots before the next team’s run is up.

Once they’re back in their room, freshly fed and watered, Lily twists her hair back into a tight knot and meticulously paints her eyeliner over her lids, follows it up with sweeping smoky shadows and a healthy few coats of mascara. She’s spread half her mouth with bright red lipstick when James rounds the corner into the loo in a panic. “I’m out of gel – I’m _out of gel_.”

“James,” Lily finishes her lipstick and caps it, “Love, light of my life.”

“ _Yes_?”

“I hate the gel – I squeezed it out in the bin,” Lily blurts.

“You – it’s _my gel_ ,” James stutters, eyes bulging behind his glasses.

Grasping his cheeks, Lily pulls his face down to hers, “Go put in your contacts, move past the gel.”

James scowls, “What if this is bad luck?”

She drags her hands up into his wild curls and scratches at his scalp. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

He leans into her hand and lets his eyes drift closed, “So I shouldn’t send Sirius money to buy me some?”

“First, Sirius has more money than God and likes acting like you’re his son, so that’s completely unnecessary,” she prods him out of the loo, “And second, please _please_ do not.”

“I concede – your commitment is pretty impressive,” James says as he throws a theraband into his bag, “You didn’t just throw away the bottle – “

“They you’d have noticed too soon,” Lily says reasonably.

“Right – is it ok if I say you scare me a little?”

“Preferable actually,” Lily teases, “It shows you have excellent self preservation instincts.”

“Good genes for our future Olympian child-“ James’ sentence derails and his cheeks flush.

Eyes softening, Lily presses a chaste kiss to his lips, wiping away the smudge she left behind, “I love you, and this is definitely a conversation we should have – “

“When we’re not hours away from the c-word?” James finishes, burying his face in her shoulder.

He squeezes her once more and pulls away, picking up his coat from where he abandoned it at the foot of the bed and tossing Lily hers. “Bags and go?”

They shuffle around, gathering last minute necessities before departing for the arena and don’t separate until the hallway outside the locker rooms. “See you in a bit.”

James grins and presses a kiss to her knuckles, “See you.”

Lily carefully slips into her costume, reinforcing the less predictable parts with tape. After, she pulls her trainers back on and trots out to find James in the corridor. “Alright, Evans?”

She hums and brushes his hair back from his face, “See, the mousse does just fine.”

“We’re lucky it does,” James murmurs as they make their way toward the corridor they’d staked out during the short dance.

Time passes quickly and before they know it, they’re out of their sweats, in their skates, and an aid is guiding them to the holding area for their warm up circuit. They stick to their usual ways, avoiding watching their competitors and getting their only clue regarding the state of things from McGonagall’s raised brows.

As the din rises between dances and McGonagall gives them a few last minute instructions while James partakes in his habitual nose blow and Lily unties and reties her skates in triple knots.

After the last couple gets their scores, James and Lily skate out, acknowledging the applause as it fills the arena. Once they reach the center, Lily folds herself into his chest for a brief embrace, letting their breathing sync until James sighs against her ear, “Let’s do this, yeah?”

Lily presses her forehead to his and nods, “Yeah.”

They take their opening positions and the music rises to fill the stadium, until it feels like a regular practice only with the added rush of adrenaline that’s unique to the Olympics.

The medley builds slowly, the early sweeping melodies giving way to sharper, faster rhythms that swell as fast as their footwork.

Lily’s nearly carried away with it, muscle memory guiding them through the majority, even as her blades leave the ice and her body snakes around James’. When she touches back down, she pushes back, leg extended and her gauzy skirt brushing over her legs elegantly.

Their final spin ends with James knelt on the ice and Lily draped so her fingertips reach the ice overhead just as the last strains sound through the echoing arena.

James drops his head to her arched ribcage as he laughs with relief, until she slips from his knee and curls up on her side, fiery hair stark against the ice as her chest heaves.

Letting his other knee come down to the ice, James slides over and Lily flips to face the towering ceiling above them, fingers knitting through his wild curls. “Bloody hell, James.”

He laughs against her neck, “We did it, Evans,” and presses a kiss to her cheek.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders so when he stands, he takes her with him and she can’t help the giggle that rises in her throat. “I think we just won gold – what exactly would earn me a kiss on the lips?”

“I wanted to leave something to the imagination, Evans,” James murmurs, eyes wrinkling with his smile, “Though I really hope our sensual tension gets through to the fanfiction universe.”

They grab a few tossed stuffed animals as they skate over to the side and enter the kiss and cry, tugging on their team jackets and sitting between McGonagall and Sirius because he could con his way into a high security prison.

Between the four of them, McGonagall’s the only one really capable of coherent conversation beyond the pointless banter they’ve perfected between the three of them.

Lily’s got a death grip on James’ hand while they wait for the scores, the judges taking _ages_ to make a decision so Lily’s afraid she might leave James with a fracture.

The crowd roars before they can make out the score and realize what it means, and then Sirius is screaming in her ear and dragging McGonagall into a messy waltz. And James goes in for a normal platonic hug that’s totally professional and definitely the safer bet, but Lily’s never put much stock in the safe options, so she grabs his neck and tugs him down for a decidedly _not_ platonic kiss.

They break apart after Sirius returns to the bench, whooping and clapping before wrapping them in a group hug. “Secret’s out lovebirds – you guys made the jumbotron.”


End file.
